


Whatever Works

by Peapods



Category: Pundit RPF
Genre: Genderfuck, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-30
Updated: 2010-01-30
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peapods/pseuds/Peapods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel and Anderson switch genders through *insert plot device here*. Sex and other things ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whatever Works

When Rachel and Anderson show up in the wrong gender(technically biological sex, he thinks to himself), Keith is like a stoner with a joint in one hand and a cookie in the other.

He doesn't know which one to put down in order to pick up the remote. They quickly make the choice for him.

Anderson is still attracted to men. Rachel is still attracted to women. Keith is still attracted to anything that shows any remote interest in him. The arrangement works for them.

"Either of you get me pregnant," Anderson starts before choking on a moan, "I will fucking end you." Rachel ignores him, obviously concentrating on trying not to come. Keith is inside her and she's inside Anderson and it shouldn't work. But God, with every thrust from Keith, Rachel thrusts into Anderson who only thrusts back. Over Rachel's recently broadened shoulder Keith can watch Anderson's recent breasts bounce and glisten, nipples hard and rosy from both Rachel and Keith's mouths. He can watch one delicate hand reach down to rub between their legs. He can watch Anderson's mouth drop open on increasingly desperate moans.

He wants to get inside Anderson, very, very badly. Wants to experience his lover without the necessary aid of lubricant. Wants to man-handle him in a way he couldn't when Anderson was a man.

But he can't deny the hotness of Rachel, enjoying the hell out of her new cock, and he can't deny her the novelty of the experience. He'll probably let her fuck him later too if she wants.

All these thoughts are making him spin out of control and he can see Anderson writhing, fighting the urge to rear up and take even more of Rachel.

"Please, please, please," he is whispering and Keith thrusts just once more before coming.

Rachel is clutching around him and she's gone still inside of Anderson. He can't see her face, but he imagines it is rosy and wet. She's so embarrassed by cocks usually, he wonders how she'll react to "boner" now that she's had and gotten rid of one.

But Anderson has not come and is crying out in desperation as Rachel slips from inside him and Keith slips from her. Rachel wastes not a moment before kneeling and, with new strength, raises Anderson's hip and sucks his clit into her mouth. Anderson screams and grabs her head.

"God! Yes!" he gasps. Keith latches onto one breast and Anderson flies apart.

Rachel's face is wet, Anderson's hair is in disarray across the pillow, and Keith feels like he's king of the universe.

It's a pretty great feeling.


	2. What Things Become

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their little arrangement has a little side effect.

Keith knows that the summons he and Rachel(still a man) have gotten from Anderson(still a woman) can't be a good thing. He had sounded extremely tense, for one thing. And not in the good way.

He answers the door in sweatpants and a t-shirt(an ensemble, Anderson had told them, his mother had fought tooth and nail to get away from him. That Gloria. She was feisty.) His hair, near the middle of his back now, is tied up in a messy bun and he looks frighteningly pale. Like, more so than usual.

Rachel barges in past Keith and is making Anderson sitting down, going to the liquor cabinet to make him drink.

"I, uh, wouldn't do that if I were you," Anderson says clearly.

Rachel's hands, bigger and stronger, freeze where they have picked up the shaker. She has, obviously, immediately comprehended his meaning, however Keith is still, naturally, in the dark.

"Someone, uh, wanna tell me what's going on?" Anderson is looking at Keith like he wants to throw up, cry, and run away. Like he is afraid of his reaction.

"Um," he clears his throat and Keith is struck again by how... feminine Anderson can be. When he was a man, even knowing he was gay, Anderson was very masculine. Now, he held himself in ways that... eluded Keith. "Remember, that first night we... you know?"

Keith vaguely recalls the night in question--at least the big events--he had at least three orgasms that night so it's possible those brain cells are gone forever.

"Yes?" he lies.

"And how I said that if either of you got me pregnant I'd end you?"

The clue bus hits Keith quite suddenly and violently and he's suddenly sitting on a stool without the memory of how he got there. He realizes he's staring at Anderson's abdomen, so very slightly rounded from it's usual flatness, but he can't stop.

"And I don't know who um, since we've been pretty," Anderson swallows, cheeks going bright red and eyes shining, "well, you all were there. But it could be either of you. Who is the father."

Rachel is already shaking drinks, not really ready to get through this conversation without a little liquid courage. Two very large martinis later they're both somewhat used to the idea of fatherhood(which makes Rachel giggle and snort). Anderson loosens up as the night goes on and they start to make plans. Not the least of which involve Keith announcing that he and Rachel would be moving in.

"You can't be alone in this," Keith avows. Anderson looks like he's about to protest and even Rachel is about to get indignant for the slight to her former sex, but Keith shakes his head. "Seriously, if one of us is the other parent we deserve to be here."

Anderson looks ready to cry and Keith is now _convinced_ he's pregnant, because for all the media calls Anderson the "emo-reporter" he really isn't that emotional. They sandwich him on the couch and turn on the trashy television he loves. His and Rachel's arms meet behind Anderson's back and Anderson alternates laying his head on their shoulders.

Finally, they take him to bed. The morning sickness is already pretty bad and they want him to have good feelings before it starts. Anderson, despite being a woman, still likes to have a cock in his ass, likes the reminder of his real existence. Keith takes him from the front holding him close to his chest. Rachel, once he and Anderson are connected, prepares him carefully and enters him. They just hold him still for a while, letting him feel, smothering him between two people who love him.

*****

Keith is awoken by the miserable sound of someone being sick to their stomach. Rachel is already up and and getting out of bed to help. Keith wants to help, but he feels... helpless. Rachel was a woman once, and would be again, she would know what to do. Despite having never been pregnant.

"Keith," she calls softly from the bathroom door and he puts on his glasses. She gestures to the kitchen. "Could you get a glass of water, please?"

Keith nods and retrieves a glass, filling it from the tap. It occurs to him that this is the first day of the rest of his life. No matter who is the sperm donor, both he and Rachel will be here. He hands off the water and sets to making breakfast for him and Rachel and Anderson if he's up to it.

They both emerge from the master suite fifteen minutes later, Anderson looking miserable and nose curling at the smell of breakfast.

"Have you seen a doctor yet?" Rachel asks.

"No, I took about ten gazillion tests and then made an appointment with Erica's OB-GYN," Anderson tells them, sipping his water. "I go Monday." Anderson hasn't gone back to his show. His transformation was slightly more... traumatic, than Rachel's and he hasn't felt the desire to even attempt working. Everyone knows what has happened to him and they are all overwhelmingly supportive, but Keith suspects that Anderson himself is reevaluating his life, is looking for something else to do.

"Would you like one or both of us to go?" Rachel asks and Anderson's eyes flick to him.

"Rachel, I hope you don't mind, but I'd really like Keith there," he says quietly.

Rachel shakes her head, "Please, he was your boyfriend before I got here. I understand you wanting him there."

Anderson takes her hand. "Thank you." She smiles at him.

"You should really try to eat."

*****

Monday comes and Keith is a bundle of nerves. They are already in the exam room and he is holding Anderson's hand as the doctor enters. She smiles at them.

"So, you're hosting a parasite?" she asks and they both laugh, the tension breaking. "Oh, good, sometimes I do that joke and it goes over like a lead balloon. So we're here for a first sonogram, yes?"

"Yes, and you know, all the other stuff," Anderson says. "I don't really know what to expect." Apparently, she watches the news or has been apprised of the situation because she only nods and begins speaking. Her voice is measured and calm and she makes everything sound so simple that Keith begins to be less afraid.

"All right, this stuff is gooey, gross and cold," she tells them pulling out the lubricant. "We'll just slap some of this on and take a looky."

Anderson takes a deep breath and Keith takes his outstretched hand. They look at the screen and Anderson hisses as the cold lube hits his stomach. The monitor turns on and the swishing noise starts. And there it was.

"All right, there's your baby. You're not _quite_ far enough along to know the sex, but everything else appears normal. Very healthy. You need to be sure to eat and eat whatever you want. Go easy on peanuts, there might be some correlation to an allergy if mom eats too many." She takes a still of the baby and turns off the machine. Anderson wipes off his stomach with the proffered tissues as the sonogram picture prints. She hands it to Keith and he stares at the little blob.

That little blob might be his baby.

Or it might be Rachel's. Is it entirely terrible of him to wish that it turned out to be his? Rachel was their friend, maybe even more--this situation had certainly brought them closer and not just in the sexual sense--but there had never been any talk of permanency.

It's okay to be a little bit selfish isn't it?

*****

Rachel is laughing when Keith enters Anderson's apartment one night. He smiles, it's been a few months since the stick turned pink, so to speak, and Anderson's belly is... adorably round. He puts away his things and makes his way into the living room. Anderson is standing facing Keith and Rachel is sitting on the couch. Her head is resting against his belly.

"Keith!" Anderson says, his voice gone breathy. "Come here!"

His brow furrows, but he comes over. Anderson immediately takes his hand and after Rachel obligingly moves her head, he places Keith's hand on his belly. A moment later there is a flutter against his hand and he feels his breath catch in his throat.

"Isn't that fantastic!" Rachel exclaims.

Keith can't speak though, he only nods overcome with emotion.

*****

Anderson is away for a weekend and Rachel decides they need to get drunk. She hasn't been able to take real advantage of her greater body mass as far as drinking goes.

And oh, do they drink. Keith is so drunk he's forgotten who this person sitting across from him is.

"It's Rachel, Keith, 'member? Lost the breasts and gained a dick?"

"Oh yeah," he says. Then he blurts, "I want it to be mine." He closes his eyes as he realizes the stupid thing that just came out of his mouth. Rachel is silent, but not surprised or accusing. She's just got an eyebrow raised(it's wiggling slightly, but he thinks that might be because keeping it up is taking a lot of effort) like she's waiting for him to continue. "I've wanted it to be mine from the start."

"Yeah, duh," she says with a shake of her head. Like Keith is an idiot for not figuring it out sooner. "He was your lover long before this shit happened, Keith. I know that, he knows that, you know that. I know you both love me, but you heard what the doc said. Another few months I'll be back to myself and this won't work anymore."

That prospect, the reminder of it, hits him like a tire iron in the balls. Rachel would turn back into a woman. Anderson, once his body no longer required it, would turn back into a man. This alternate universe they had been living in would reset itself with only one tiny, miracle reminder of their time together.

"I don't want you to go," he mumbles.

"Anderson likes boys," she says matter-of factly. "And I like girls. It's worked for now. I let you pretend like I really like cock and sometimes it's fun and sexy. But I like women, Keith. I love you. Sincerely, greatly, mind-bogglingly. But you're just not what I want. Even if you are what I need."

Keith sort of wants to cry. Trust Rachel to turn him down and make him feel amazing at the same time.

"And Keith," she says, getting up and kissing him sloppily on the cheek and mouth and forehead. "I want it to be yours too. You two deserve it."

*****

"I want it out," Anderson grumbles one morning, even as Rachel moves within him. He is shuddering from the pleasure as Keith rubs his belly and swollen breasts, kissing him when the other man isn't complaining.

"Just another month," Rachel says in his ear even as her pace picks up. "_God_, just a little longer," she says and Keith is uncertain whether she means the pregnancy, this session of 'make feel Anderson better about being knocked up', or her own return to femalehood.

With one hand working his clit, Keith feels Anderson seize and thrash into his orgasm. It's amazing to watch him, so different from his male reaction. Rachel follows after a moment.

"Well, while I will miss the easy orgasm," she says as they recline under the covers. "I will not miss the utter lack of multiple orgasms."

"Opposite," Anderson announces, boneless from his two orgasms.

"Only a couple more days," she tells them. "According to Dr. Roth."

They're both silent at that. Keith and Anderson exchange a look before cuddling to Rachel. She wraps her arms around them the best she can.

"Hey, I'll still be around. Just, you know, not with the orgasms," she says, trying to sound optimistic.

"And the baby?" Anderson asks so hesitantly that Keith grabs his hand.

"I'll be there for it no matter the outcome. I've been here eight months, not going to suddenly cut out just because it's not mine," she says the last part so matter-of-factly. Like she knows it's not hers. Keith catches Anderson's eyes again and sees the same guilty hope. That no matter how much they love Rachel and want her around, irrationally they both want Keith to be the father.

Keith doesn't want to jinx it. Every time he thinks it he scrubs his brain. He wants to get up, turn around three times and spit. He makes himself imagine the world where the baby isn't his.

*****

"Fuck, I hate this," Anderson pants as another contraction leaves him. He has been squeezing both of their hands hard enough to crunch bones since they started. Rachel, breasts intact, dick lost to... wherever it went, is handling it all with aplomb. They went to the birthing classes and after Rachel turned back into a woman they had plenty of female bitching sessions that Keith, by virtue of having a dick, didn't understand.

Keith is, in contrast, panicking. Because this is the day and he's going to find out today whether he's the father. Whether he'll have "dada" rights, or whether he'll be the-- he stops himself right there. He and Anderson are still together. Are still committed. Rachel had stopped sleeping with them as she had planned and her being the father wasn't going to mean that Keith meant any less to Anderson. They had both said as much to him after a near panic attack on the way to the hospital. Well, Anderson had been a little more... strident about it. To be fair, it was during a particularly painful contraction.

"Ahhhhhggggg," Anderson almost screams as the doctors tell him to push again. Keith really does not want to imagine what exactly "pushing" involves, but the idea of a particularly painful bowel movement comes to mind anyway.

"Come on, Anderson," he says lowly. "You can do this."

"All right, one more big push Anderson, just one more and it'll be over," the doctor is assuring them. But Anderson already looks exhausted. He was never meant for this and it is obviously wearing him down. He has barely any time to recuperate before the baby makes its desire to be rid of Anderson known.

The push, accompanied by a scream that probably woke the dead, ends with sobs and the rising cries of a gooey baby. Keith is without even the words to speak, to tell Anderson how well he did like they did on TV and in movies. Because the baby is cleaned off and in Keith's arms a moment later and he can't look away from the scrunched, wrinkled face of Anderson's baby.

"They're doing paternity as we speak," Rachel tells him in his ear and he finally notices that she's right next to him, practically right on top of him, grinning ear to ear down at the little girl. He looks over at Anderson who is looking tired, happy, and a little anxious. With an approving glance from Rachel he takes the little girl to Anderson who accepts her with a happy grin, holding her close.

"Good God, I never thought I'd--" he chokes on a sob.

"You're pretty much a modern medical miracle, Anderson," Rachel tells him, smoothing gray hair from his sweaty forehead.

"She's beautiful," he whispers.

"Yeah, she is," Keith says.

*****

"Congratulations Mr. Olbermann," the doctor says and there's a ringing in Keith's ears as Rachel hugs him, her smile wide even if her eyes are watering.

"You wanted it to be you, didn't you?" he says to her as the doctor goes away. Anderson is sleeping and they're installed in the rocker and armchair.

"A little bit," Rachel says, her voice choked with emotion as she wipes at her eyes and blows her nose.

"Well, you are, sort of. We want you to be Godmother," he says. "Anderson told me, if it was you, that it would be the other way around. We all get to be a part of her life."

"I would be honored," Rachel says, eyes leaking some more.

Later that day they watch Anderson suckle his daughter. They decide to call her Deirdre Vanderbilt Cooper-Olbermann. It's a mouthful, but it's accurate so they go with it. He'll breast-feed for six more months before his body will give up the ghost and return to its original state.

Watching him, Keith can't help feeling Anderson won't be quite as happy to see this body go as he would have been nine months ago.

*****

"And that, my dear Didi, is how you came into this world," Keith says to his little girl as she sits up in bed clutching her stuffed cabybara(Jeff Corwin can find the most awesome stuffed animals).

"Why didn't Daddy stay a girl?" she asks.

"Because he wasn't meant to," Keith answers simply. "But he hasn't regretted that time since."

"Because of me?" she asks sweetly, like they haven't told her so every day of her life.

"Because of you," Keith affirms, leaning down to kiss his little girl goodnight. "Now, go to sleep. Aunt Rachel will be here early to take you to the zoo."

"Okay, Papa, goodnight. Love you," she says, settling down and turning to her side.

"I love you too. Sweet dreams, Didi."

In the doorway he meets his now legal husband who smiles and kisses him before going to kiss his daughter to sleep. As they leave the room, flicking off the light, Keith takes Anderson into his arms.

"Did I get everything right?" he asks.

"You forgot the part where Rachel fainted at the sight of the afterbirth. And the part where I ate nothing but tomato and cucumber sandwiches dipped in Italian dressing for four months. And the part where you forgot--"

The rest of his recitation is lost in a kiss.


	3. Dandelion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life.

Mid-morning sun shone down into the partially covered back yard. The overgrown grasses and puffy white dandelions swayed in the gentle breeze. Summer crickets creaked loudly.

Suddenly a delighted scream broke the scene and Anderson smiled as he watched Keith chase Deirdre around the yard, making growling noises. Their little girl, clad in her red polka dot dress, grabbed her little plastic shovel and thrust it at Keith. Keith, feigning being stabbed, collapsed dramatically into a patch of dandelions, seedlings flying up around him and into the air.

"Daddy! I killed da monster!" Didi called to Anderson.

"I saw! But you better make sure. Monsters sometimes only play dead," he advised, getting up to watch.

Didi took his advice and crept closer. As she bent over Keith's prone form, two arms shot up and smothered her to his chest with a loud cry. Didi screamed.

"Daddy! He got me!"

"Don't worry I'll save you!" Anderson called, coming over, grabbing the plastic spade and holding it to Keith's throat. "I suggest you unhand the lady, she is quite skilled in the slaying of monsters."

"What do I get if I do?" the monster bargained.

"Didi, do we make deals with monsters?"

"Only if they promise sweets," Didi said.

"Sweets I can do. I can offer ice cream after dinner this evening," the monster offered. Didi squealed and jumped off of him, running towards her swing set, having already forgotten her duty to slay the monster.

"I guess I'll have to do the slaying here," Anderson said, coming to straddle Keith's waist.

"I see my plea bargain only extended to the lady."

"Indeed, and as her partial rescuer I demand some kind of payment for my services."

Keith simply dragged him down into a kiss.

"I can assure you ample compensation this evening."

"I look forward to it."


	4. Pain, Sunny Days and Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting sick is not the end of the world.

"Daddy?" a small, pathetic voice coaxed him from sleep. He opened his eyes in the darkened bedroom to see his little girl staring at him with sad, pained eyes. Rain fell steadily on the roof, pinging on the swing-set outside their window. It was incongruous sound when only hours earlier they had been eating dinner on the patio in the fading sunset.

"Didi?" Anderson whispered. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"Don't feel good," she said simply. She stood still, dragging her stuffed panda behind her, nightgown twisted around her small frame.

"Aww," he said, carefully extricating himself from underneath Keith's arm. He got out of bed and picked up his daughter, perching her on his hip as he checked her forehead. She was burning up, but shivered in Anderson's embrace, pressing her face to his neck and shoulder. He held her close and started to move out into the hallway. "Come on, let's go take your temperature. Can you tell me what hurts?"

"Throat, head," she said as they entered the bathroom. He flicked on the light, eyes reacting to the harsh light. He sat her on the sink and pulled out the thermometer and held it in her ear for a moment. Thunder rumbled through the air and the jingle of tags indicated Molly's presence, awakened and frightened by the storm. She got on hind legs, putting her paws on the counter, letting Didi pet her head, licking at her fingers.

"101.5, baby," Anderson said, kissing her forehead.

"'s going on?" asked a yawning Keith as he came in. Molly got down and settled on her haunches, watching her small family.

"Didi's not feeling so well," Anderson told him, getting out the liquid Tylenol. "Sore throat, headache, fever."

"My baby girl's feelin' icky?" Keith asked, picking her up and holding her close. Didi still clutched her panda, bonking Keith in the head with it as her arms came up to wind around his neck. Once Anderson had poured the medicine he took the small cup and held it to Didi's lips, who grimaced but took the medicine, testament to how bad she felt.

"Can I sleep with you all?" she asked.

"Of course, baby," Anderson said stroking her hair. Keith carried her out and laid her in the bed, Anderson following a moment later. Keith had apparently turned on the bedside lamp when he'd gotten up, casting a soft glow over the bedroom. Didi propped herself on Keith's chest ear positioned over his heart. Anderson felt his own constrict as his mind flew to his own memories in his father's lap, listening to reassuring rumble in his chest. He got into bed and pulled himself close. Keith got an arm around him and laid another large hand on Didi's back. Molly got up and curled in a ball at the end of the bed.

"Read me a story?" Didi asked softly. Anderson picked up the book they had decided to start reading to her from the pile on the bookcase and flipped to the first chapter. He began to read, the steady rain as his soundtrack.

"_In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in ti to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chair, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats--the hobbit was fond of visitors..._"

They fell asleep that way, intertwined.


	5. Layover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anderson is late, he's late, for a very important date!

"No, really, I've been trying to get another flight," Anderson told Keith as he paced. "But apparently every one on the planet is on their way to New York today."

"Wait a minute, you _promised_ Didi you'd take her to the ballet," Keith said. "I've got my show I can't take her."

"I know," Anderson sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Damnit, Anderson, why the hell were you there so long?"

"Keith," Anderson exclaimed incredulously, "there was a _tornado_ in _December_, forgive me for not forseeing that particular weather pattern. I thought I would be back last night."

Now Keith was sighing, "I know, but damnit this means so much to her."

"I know," Anderson whispered. "Keith, I will _try_ to find a way home, okay? Just-just don't tell Didi."

"All right, in the meantime I'll call Mom and see if she can't come take her in a pinch."

"Okay," Anderson said before hanging up.

*****

"Papa?" Didi asked as Keith began tying his tie.

"Yes, Didi?" he asked, crouching to her level.

"Will Daddy be home in time for the ballet?" she asked, thumb going in her mouth.

Keith pulled it away gently, "of course, sweetie. He can't wait to get home and take you," he said hoping Anderson wouldn't make a liar of him.

"What if he isn't?" Didi asked softly.

"Didi, he'll be here. He wouldn't miss it for the world."

*****

By one in the afternoon Anderson was frantic. There were _no_ flights to New York, not even when he'd finally given in and tried to play the TV news anchor card. Each person he'd talked to had given him the "I'm sorry sir, but..." speech. Finally, he called the only person in Los Angeles who could help him.

"Hello?"

"Ryan! It's Anderson," he said, ignoring the startled look of the woman next to him.

"Andy! Hi! Are you in L.A.?" Ryan Seacrest asked, even with a young woman whispering frantically to him in the background of the call.

"Yes, yes I am and I don't _want_ to be. I need your help."

"What's up dude?"

"Do you know anyone with a plane?"

"Seriously?" Ryan asked, with a laugh.

"Yes, please, Ryan. I got stuck in Canada in a freak tornado and I thought I would be back in time, but I can't find a flight anywhere and--"

"Anderson! Calm down!" Ryan cried. "Why do you need to get home so badly?"

"My daughter, Didi, I promised I would take her to the ballet tonight and she's going to be heartbroken if I don't," Anderson said, feeling his voice break. It was supposed to be a special night, an early Christmas present, for just him and Didi.

"Okay, hey, lemme make a call, okay? I'll call you right back," Ryan said, suddenly all business.

"Okay," Anderson said, hanging up. He went to the lounge and threw himself into a chair and buried his head in his hands. He really hoped, couldn't help but _pray_ that Ryan could help him. Missing this would set a dangerous precedent. It was true, Anderson didn't travel as much anymore. But his new book, a novel, had required more far-reaching publicity than usual. It was a given, in the schedule, that he wouldn't have been able to be there for her music recital a few months before, but this would have made up for it. He wanted every moment he could get with his daughter and he hated to think that a tornado and a recalcitrant airport would steal even a second from him.

Twenty minutes later, frustrated, sad, and too close to taking a stewardess hostage for comfort, his phone rang again.

"Ryan?!" he asked, jumping up.

"You've got ten minutes to get to Simon's plane, he's waiting for you," Ryan said rattling off the directions.

"Ryan, you have no idea how much this means to me," Anderson said even as he began gathering his things.

"I know, and that's why I'm not kicking your ass for making me use the favor Simon owed me on you," Ryan said. "Now go! And say hello to Didi and Keith for me."

"I will, thank you Ryan," Anderson said before running out of the lounge.

*****

"Cooper the family man," said a British voice as he stepped onto the most luxurious plane he'd even been on. Although, he'd been on several military transports so that wasn't much a qualifier.

"I can't thank you enough Mr. Cowell," Anderson said, taking the offered hand.

"No need to thank me, Anderson," Simon Cowell said gesturing him inside. "And you _can_ call me Simon, your entire country does so already." It made Anderson giggle.

"Yes, I uh, well still I do need to thank you because this means so much to me," they sat in the swinging arm chairs.

"Yes, I understand you and your daughter are to go to the ballet tonight," Simon said gesturing to a steward to pour them drinks. Anderson refused the scotch, but eagerly took the Coke.

"We've been talking about it for ages. A freak tornado kept me in Vancouver much longer than I'd planned, there were no flights out. It would have broken her heart not to be able to go. So, I called Ryan."

Simon regarded him the eye of a businessman for a long moment. "Anderson, I do believe you are on the most decent human beings I've ever had the privilege to meet."

*****

It was six forty-five by the time Simon's plane landed and Anderson only issued the most perfunctory goodbye as he flew out of the airport and grabbed the nearest cab. The ride to the house would take too long. He would have to stop at his mother's and then go straight to the theater.

"Marie! It's Anderson," he said into the phone as he began taking off his coat and jacket, ready to run in and get quickly changed.

"Anderson! Are you home?" She asked, quietly.

"Yes, I am but I won't have time to get home. Are you on your way to the theater?

"Yes, we were about to leave."

"I'll meet you there. Oh and don't tell her, I wanna surprise her," Anderson said as the cab pulled up to his mother's home.

"Of course, Anderson," she said.

Anderson jumped out of the cab and quickly entered the code for his mother's home, running in with a frantic, "Mom! Where's my tux?"

His mother appeared from her studio with a confused look on her face. "Why do you want your tux? Anderson, what are you doing here, you're supposed to be--"

"At the theater yes, but I had a plane foul-up and only just got back to New York. Is it in storage or--?"

"Here," she went into one of her spare rooms and threw open a closet door, flicking through old dresses and garment bags until she pulled one out, seemingly at random. "Are you certain you can still fit into it?"

"I'll have to try," he said, quickly stripping. The pants still fit almost exactly, which he was going to think of as a good thing. The shirt, though a little tight over the shoulders, also buttoned with little problem. His mother helped him strap on the cummerbund while he tied his tie. Thankfully, his mother hadn't been able to talk him into anything but a classic tux all those years ago and Anderson had immediately replaced the bow tie with a regular one. It would look only slightly outdated, but outdated was apparently coming back in style anyway.

"You're all done," she said. He pulled the jacket on, again, a little tight, but not noticeably so and turned around for her approval. She nodded and gestured grandly to the door. "Your princess awaits, Anderson."

*****

Marie Olbermann hated pretense. For one thing, it was dishonest. For another, she was very bad it. And the heartbroken look on Didi's face wasn't helping the matter.

"He said he'd be here," Didi said. "Papa never lies."

"I'm sure he tried very hard to be here, sweetheart, he wanted nothing more," Marie said, not looking at her granddaughter. Around them, happier children and parents mingled, buying daughters Clara dolls and sons small Nutcracker Princes.

The lights began to flicker and so did Marie's heart. Maybe Anderson really _wouldn't_ make it. She took Didi's hand and began leading her closer to their entrance, looking around her all the while, hoping for a glimpse of tell-tale white hair.

"Wait! I'm here!" came a hurried voice and Marie and Didi both turned to see Anderson, breathless, but dapper in his tux jogging towards them.

"Daddy!" Didi squealed, pulling away from Marie and running towards her father. Her small curls bounced wildly from the semblance of order Marie had managed to get it into earlier that evening and she was almost afraid Didi would trip on her long dress. But Anderson came forward and scooped her up easily. "You made it!"

"Of course I did," he said with all the confidence in the world. "You thought I wouldn't?"

"But Gigi was here!"

"And didn't I say he'd be here?" Marie asked.

"You were so late!" she said, wide-eyed. Anderson smiled warmly kissing his daughter's brow

"I know, sweetie, you should have seen me rushing around New York City. I'm even wearing a tux from when I was nearly _your_ age," he said, smoothing a hand down the front of his jacket, eliciting more giggles.

"It is not!" she protested.

"Close enough!" he said with faux-offense. "Now, I believe the ballet awaits us." He set her down and offered her a hand which she took. They both waved goodbye to Marie, Anderson throwing her a silent, grateful 'thank you' even as Didi chattered excitedly beside him.

Marie, for her part, pulled out her new cell phone and with new found skill sent her son the following text:

"The Regal Bird has landed."


End file.
